


Roses versus Nails

by TotemundTabu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Art, Ficlet, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Based on a very silly discussion, an art piece and music puns





	Roses versus Nails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/gifts).



> So, I was discussing this art piece online and Janie_Tangerine pointed out that the nickname we had in uni for it was ABSOLUTELY throbbesque, so I decided I had to write it!
> 
> robb-greyjoy.tumblr.com/post/174239078226/janiedean-robb-greyjoy-sohideyoureyes-its
> 
> Sorry for the absence XD depression hit me!

**Roses VS Nails**

 

Robb loved going to museums with Theon, he did, really.

He just… was not that good with contemporary stuff.

Classic and antique art? That was his jam.

It’s not that he didn’t like contemporary art or found it silly, but he never studied it, lacked the context, so he kept staring at it, in doubt, wondering how he was supposed to interpret it.

When Theon explained stuff to him, he was always more than interested; but his boyfriend usually took for granted that he’d, of course, understand the meaning behind a tin can with “shit” written over it or a black canvas with melted, red plastic drapery over it.

Of course. How could he not?

It was so obvious.

So when Theon dragged him to the Brooklyn museum to watch some works that had not been on view for a while, he didn’t dare to break the spell for which his boyfriend considered him so cultured.

Robb licked his lips, nervously, staring in front of himself, where a sculpture of an aviator pierced by nails stood.

What did that mean now?

The horrors of war? Death? Fear of flying?

He glanced at Theon, who was just nodding profoundly, beautiful dark eyes shining as he observed the details of the statue. Robb couldn’t even fully identify the material.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”, Theon whispered.

Robb sweated, letting out a low, croaked nod.

“It’s very, hm… pierced.”

Theon glanced at him, smiling. “Yes and the fiberglass and iron oxide use is… breathtaking.”

Robb nodded, nervously, “Remind me the… umh, context, then again?”

“You mean the Tuskegee Airmen series?”

“Great, yeah, right.”

Theon grinned, “Richards is so good, wish more people acknowledged his works.”

“One day, for sure...”, Robb said, trying to memorize the name of the series to google it later.

He did care. He so did.

Especially since Theon  _loved_ that art.

It was just… so foreign to him.

He was still immersed in his well of self-scolding for not having taken contemporary art as an extra course, when he heard the gasp.

Not a random gasp, no.

It was Theon’s “oh my god I love this piece and it’s actually the real reason we’re here” gasp.

“Robb, look! - he forced himself to half-whisper, pulling Robb closer by his wrist – It’s Edwina Sandys.”

Robb stared.

It was a bed. A bed. A fucking bed.

Half of it was covered in roses and the other half in long nails.

He bit his lips, forcing himself to keep the pun to down. Theon didn’t need his shitty jokes, he needed to keep it in.

But, fuck.

A bed of roses and a bed of nails, c’mon, that was an attack on his horrible music-based sense of humor!

Theon smiled, basically beaming. Robb wondered if all art students were like fanboys and fangirls of famous artists, struggling to become their idols.

“The marriage bed. - he claimed, with a sigh, as if he was reading a script, and Robb loved his dramatic boyfriend – Sometimes a Bed of Roses, sometimes a Bed of Nails.”

“...what?”, Robb blurted out.

That was… the actual …

“The title. - Theon explained, quickly – From 2001.”

It was the title.

Robb had to bite his bottom lip shut. He could feel the stupid joke climbing his throat to come out.

“Such a wonderful piece on Marriage as constriction, on abuse… you can feel how it encapsulates the double nature of commitment: on one side, when wanted, absolute, poetic bliss and on the other, when forced or… - he sighed, thinking back on the scars he never told Robb how he got – Or when things turn sour, so painful and...”

Theon turned towards Robb, who was still biting his lip.

“Honey, are you okay?”, he blinked.

Robb let out a strangled sound, as if he had wanted to shut up, but then he couldn’t avoid it.

“It’s a bit like me… well, us, you know.”

Theon blinked, worried.

Yes, Robb and him fought. Often. Between Robb’s heated temper and Theon’s terrible mix of abandonment and commitment issues, they had spats often in the course of their relationship. Sometimes bad nights. Lots of make up sex.

He knew he was … a lot to put up with.

But it never occurred to him that Robb could bear a grudge towards him or have such a view of their relationship, as if it was half-struggle.

Or pain.

He had never wanted that for Robb.

His lips quivered, “What do you mean?”

And then Robb showed his shit-face terrible joke expression.

“You know… - he made a small laugh – When you like Bon Jovi, but your bae likes Alice Cooper.”

Theon’s eyelids twitched and he sucked his lips, closing his eyes and breathing in.

“Robert Edmure Stark, you are an absolute dork.”

Robb laughed, low-voiced, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m… it’s deep and all, don’t get me wrong, but...”

Theon pulled him closer by the collar of the t-shirt and glanced at him, eyebrow raised and wicked smirk on his lips.

“But, you are an absolute sap who would lay me on a _literal_ bed of roses if he could?”

“Absolutely. - Robb’s hand went to Theon’s slender waist – Though, I feel your libido would appreciate more the little nails.”

“Hmm… - Theon mused, half-lidded eyes and smug smirk – Maybe we can settle for thorns.”

Robb gave a grin, “Did I just get permission to put roses on our bed once?”

Theon nodded, lascivious, “As long as you tie me to it.”

“… can I also put Bon Jovi in the background?”

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself. - Theon faked offense – You won over my heart, not my impeccable musical taste.”

Robb shook his head, and groaned to himself, jokingly, “Damn you, Alice Cooper, damn you.”

Theon gave another glance to the art piece before moving forward, Robb’s hand still on the side of his waist, almost cupping it.

He knew which side of the bed he was on now.


End file.
